


Unspoken

by alba17



Series: Marvel Shipping Games Ficlets [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, First Kiss, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s in the way he looks at you, the hunger and weight of his gaze, the flicker of fondness as he quickly turns away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for marvelshippinggames Bonus Round 2, prompt 'love epiphany.'

You put on a fresh uniform, knowing you might not be taking it off for fifteen hours, maybe thirty. You fill your travel cup with coffee, always black. A bite of toast to put something in your stomach, but already you’re queasy with anticipation, so the rest goes uneaten. Then the drive in, stop and start through a snarl of vehicles, the Washington Monument on the horizon.

You wind around in the dimness until you find your spot in the garage, turn off the ignition and gird yourself with a final sip of coffee.

The day begins.

Up the silently gliding elevator, good mornings and hellos, until you reach his floor. You’re one of the few people allowed up here. As it does every day, adrenaline sizzles up your spine before you enter. One thing about your job, it’s never dull. But more than that, it’s the man behind the door who kicks your pulse into high gear.

Fury gazes out the wall of window, brilliant blue sky with a few skidding clouds, the city at his feet, the river a wide shining ribbon. You see the tight unease in his shoulders even before he turns to you, stiff torso betraying his tension, confirmed by the worry you see in his eye.

Something’s wrong. You wait. He fiddles with papers on his desk. You won’t say anything and he won’t either, not until he has orders for you. Everything is left unsaid, always. 

Which is fine because there’s that thread of connection between you, even when you’re apart. It’s in the way he looks at you, the hunger and weight of his gaze, the flicker of fondness as he quickly turns away. It’s in the way you anticipate what he wants without being told, the way you think about pulling that eye patch off so you can see the real man underneath, know him even more thoroughly. You know his shirt size, but you don’t know how his chest would feel in your embrace, and somehow you don’t think you’ll ever feel complete until you do.

You catch him sometimes, contemplating you like a famished man does a hamburger, and you know in your gut, when the words come, they’ll come in a passionate rush. Neither of you will be able to stuff them back in, and that step feels too irrevocable, too dangerous. The space between you is precious and must be maintained.

There’s a security breach, he tells you, SHIELD has been compromised. He has to go undercover; they have to leave now. It’s just them, he says, until they know whom they can trust. Probably Cap, maybe Romanoff, but nothing’s certain.

For a second you wobble, heat rushing to your head, a welter of confused thoughts, until your training takes over and you start to think practicalities. How to get out of the building without detection, security vulnerabilities, possible safehouses. In the midst of your mental planning, Fury steps over to you. He touches your face. You freeze, your mind blank, not processing. His fingertips are warm, his bulk reassuring.

“Maria,” he says. His other hand comes up to clasp your neck and then he’s kissing you, his lips demanding, tilting your head to get a better angle. You find yourself bending into him, your hands on his chest, on his shoulders, sliding over his short-cropped hair. It’s a shock and yet it isn’t, it’s something you’ve been waiting for and wanting a long time, like a story you’ve heard over and over until it seems like it really happened. You feel his lips, his tongue, savor his taste, the ruggedness of his body under your fingers.

“Nick,” you breathe. Have you ever addressed him like that before? You can’t remember, but he will always be Nick now. You cling to each other. 

“I needed to do that because I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he says, nosing into your hair. “I don’t know where I’ll have to go or for how long, where either of us will end up.”

You breathe in his scent. “I want to stay with you. Don’t make me go away.”

“I won’t. Not yet anyway. But first…I have to die.”

Your heart plunges until he starts to explain what he needs you to do.


End file.
